


Go Big or Go Home

by serenelystrange



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 01:23:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17152673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenelystrange/pseuds/serenelystrange
Summary: Just a little bit of Christmas time fluff, with a dash of insecurity and a sprinkle of pack feels!





	Go Big or Go Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Michicant123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michicant123/gifts).



"Derek, I love you, truly. Truly madly deeply, even. But this? This is insane.”

The sinister smile that Stiles gets in response does absolutely nothing to change his opinion on the matter.

“Babe,” Stiles tries again, reaching for the cord grasped tightly in Derek’s hand.

“No,” Derek says, pulling his hand again his chest protectively. “I’m not letting them win this time! They think they’re so great with their picket fence and 2.5 kids and their…”

“I don’t think it’ll be 2.5 kids for long,” Stiles interrupts, trying to halt the rant before Derek can truly spiral. “Leanna looks like she’s gonna pop any day now.”

“She WOULD have a baby for Christmas,” Derek snarks back, but he’s calming down as Stiles runs his fingers through his hair soothingly.

“It’s just a contest,” Stiles says, “a super boring suburban house decorating contest that you definitely don’t need to win just to show off to Mr. and Mrs. Whitebread over there.”

“When did you get so sensible?” Derek grumbles, pulling out the full force of his pout and sad eyes to look at Stiles.

“Only when I don’t want to see my fiancé electrocute himself because he’s trying to hang a shit-ton of lights when he knows damn well it’s about to start pouring at any minute!”

“I’d heal,” Derek says, staring determinedly at the space just to the left of Stiles’ eye-line.

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs, “but you’d smell like burnt hair for weeks. And I don’t want that in my bed.”

“Fine,” Derek says at last, “but I’m doing it tomorrow morning, as soon as the rain stops.”

“And I’ll support you with all of my heart,” Stiles says, lightly shoving Derek towards the house. “I’ll even make you some hot chocolate.”

“With the little marshmallows?” Derek asks, perking up just a bit.

“Obviously,” Stiles says, smiling as Derek loops an arm around his waist and tugs him closer as they walk.

.

.

“I’m counting on you and your super sniffer for this, Derek. Don’t let me down!”

Derek scoffs and crosses his arms across his chest in a way that makes his arms flex appealingly, but is otherwise infuriatingly smug.

“Weren’t you the one telling me, not even a week ago, that we don’t need to beat ‘Mr and Mrs. Whitebread’?”

Stiles turns the hand blender on in response, letting the loud whirring speak for him as he mixes the cookie dough without mercy.

“All Jake said was he would bring us over some home-made cookies for Christmas,” Derek says, well aware that Stiles can still hear him even over the blender with as close as he’s standing.

The blender clicks off and Derek takes the moment to scoop his finger into the batter and shove a gob of dough into Stiles’ mouth before he can go off. He’s not even surprised when Stiles bites his finger out of pettiness as he’s removing the digit form his mouth.

“He just thinks we’re these dumb sad bachelors who can’t even make cookies,” Stiles says, a little muffled over the mouth full of dough.

“I don’t think any of our neighbors think we’re bachelors,” Derek says wryly, “especially after the 4th of July Incident.”

“I didn’t realize the curtains were open!” Stiles says after he’s swallowed all of the cookie dough, “and neither did you, Mr. Superior Hearing.”

“They definitely got a show,” Derek says, smiling when it pulls a laugh from Stiles.

“Way better than fireworks,” Stiles agrees.

“Why do we do this to ourselves?” he asks, flopping dramatically against Derek’s chest and tucking his face against his neck.

Derek unfolds his arms just in time to catch Stiles, wraps them around him so that they don’t both go tumbling, and keeps them there because Stiles is his favorite thing to hold.

“Because we both have a dumb need to prove we can be a nice normal family?” Derek answers, popping his claws out just a tiny bit to poke at Stiles’ back. “Even though we know we’ll never be normal.”

“We do live near too many humans,” Stiles sighs, “and straight people.”

Derek just snorts at that.

“Ok,” Stiles says, wiggling himself out of Derek’s hold and pulling back. “I’m going to make these damn cookies. You’re gonna make sure they don’t burn when I inevitably get distracted. Then we’re going to decorate the fuck out of them, and shove them right in Jake’s douchey face.”

“Not literally, I hope,” Derek says.

“We’ll see how it goes!” Stiles says, smacking his hand against the counter top with emphasis.

Derek just laughs.

.

.

“Wow!” Scott says as they’re all in the living room a few nights before Christmas. “This place looks great! And that tree is enormous!”

“Go big or go home!” Derek yells from upstairs somewhere, causing Stiles and Allison to break out into giggles. There may be rum and eggnog involved.

“He’s been around you too long,” Scott says to Stiles.

“Isn’t it great?” Stiles agrees, a happy flush to his cheeks. “Plus, I get to go home AND go big!”

Allison sputters into a cough as she tries to drink and laugh at the same time.

“Get it?” asks Stiles, “because I live here and Derek has a huge c…”

“We get it,” Scott cuts him off, a pleading tone to his voice. “Please don’t tell me about Derek’s….business again.”

“You can tell me,” Allison whispers, as if Scott isn’t both standing right there and in possession of werewolf hearing.

“I wouldn’t mind hearing about it either,” Lydia says from the coziest armchair, deciding to abandon whoever she’d been texting and join the conversation.

“I miss Boyd,” Scott sighs, “he wouldn’t care about Derek’s junk.”

“He and Erica will be back next year,” Allison offers, “assuming they can find jobs after they finish their degrees.”

“I hope so,” Scott says, “I can’t imagine being so far away from all of you for so long.”

“Pack bond?” Lydia asks, “I’ve always wondered if there’s a certain distance where you can’t feel them anymore.”

“I always feel them,” Scott says, shrugging, “but I just meant I’d miss you guys too much, even as a regular human.”

“Aww, Scotty,” Stiles says, tugging Scott down so he’s sprawled awkwardly on Stiles’ lap. “I’d miss you too much too!”

“Lightweight,” Scott huffs, ruffling Stiles’ hair fondly before elbowing him gently in the stomach and clambering off his lap and retreating to the other side of the couch to join Allison.

“Alright!” Derek exclaims as he enters the room with an armful of supplies. “Who’s ready to build some gingerbread houses that will put the neighbor kids to shame?”

“Fuck yeah!” Stiles says, pumping a fist into the air.

“There is something very wrong with both of you, I just need you to know that.” Lydia says. “Now give me the frosting… those grubby third graders are going down!

.

.

“Kiddo, this is too much,” John says as he takes in the sight before him. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Derek did most of it,” Stiles shrugs, “and we wanted you to have something nice. You’ve been talking about getting a new coffee table forever, and now that Melissa is here more and more…I figured it’d be a good time to get you a nice one.”

“It’s gorgeous,” John admits, tracing his hands over the intricate carvings in the wood. “And Derek made this?”

Stiles nods, a proud grin on his face. “I did some of the smaller carvings, but he carved and put together the rest of it himself. He was deeply offended when I suggested just going to Crate and Barrel or something.”

“Gorgeous,” John repeats. “Where is he, anyway? I want to thank him.”

“He’s delivering the porch bench he made Melissa,” Stiles admits, laughing. “Turns out he actually really likes woodworking.”

John raises his eyebrow, waiting for his son’s inevitable wood joke, but it never comes.

“I’ve gone through them all several times already,” Stiles says, knowingly. “I’ll have more eventually, don’t worry.”

“I have no doubt,” John says, clapping Stiles on the shoulder. “But I appreciate the temporary maturity.”

“Merry Christmas, old man,” Stiles replies, turning his dad’s shoulder clap into a proper hug.

“Stillinskis hug,” he says definitively, “no matter how old they get.”

“Damn right,” John says, squeezing back. “Merry Christmas, kiddo.”

.

.

“WHAT IS THIS????”

Derek freezes and looks up at Stiles with a guilty expression on his face.

“I can explain!” he says, jumping up from the living room floor.

“Kitchen!” Stiles says, marching past Derek without another word.

.

“Ok, hear me out,” Derek starts as he enters the kitchen to see Stiles practically fuming out the ears.

“Why is the enemy in our home?” Stiles demands in a stage whisper.

Derek can’t help but scoff at that.

“They’re seven years old, Stiles. They are not the enemy.”

“SPAWN OF THE ENEMY!” Stiles says, still whisper-yelling. Derek pities his throat.

“So Jake and Leanna…”

“Oh, they’re Jake and Leanna now?” Stiles asks, incredulously. “We’ve been in a white people war with them for months and now we’re suddenly on first name basis? On Christmas?”

“Stiles,” Derek says calmly, “if you’d let me finish.”

“Fine,” Stiles sighs. “Go ahead and explain why we’re suddenly babysitters for ‘Jake and Leanna.’”

“They’re exhausted,” Derek says, dropping his voice even lower so the kids can’t hear him. “I was taking the trash out and I overheard them talking in their kitchen about how they wished they could get some rest before the twins were all over them again.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, slumping as some of the fight goes out of him.

“I guess they’ve both been working two jobs to try and keep up with the mortgage and still give the kids a nice Christmas, even after Leanna lost her fancy corporate job.”

“She’s so pregnant though,” Stiles says, frowning. “She shouldn’t have to work any jobs right now.”

“Exactly,” Derek says. “So I took over some of those cookies you made and offered to let the kids come over for a few hours and play video games so they could take a nap.”

“That’s really sweet,” Stiles admits begrudgingly.

“We’ve been ridiculous,” Derek says, “we’re that awful Hallmark Christmas Movie couple that overdoes everything and everyone hates.”

“That’s fair,” Stiles says.

“So, want to come show these youngins how to play Mario Cart?” Derek asks, grinning.

Stiles’ face lights up in delight.

“Oh, those babies are SO getting blue-shelled!”

“You’re awful,” Derek says, laughing. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Stiles says, throwing his arms around Derek’s neck and kissing him soundly.

“Merry Christmas,” he says when he finally pulls away. “You’re my favorite gift, you big ol’ softie.”

“You’re mine too", Derek says softly.  “Even though now we’re that awful cheesy Lifetime Movie couple that everyone hates,” undoubtedly sounding as smitten as he feels.

Stiles laughs, loud and full of joy.

“I think I can live with that.”

.

The End

 


End file.
